"Schjerfbeck was an extremely slow painter. When she began painting, the first brushstrokes would show whether the mood was right. If not, she would wait for a better day. When she eventually returned to the canvas weeks later, she would often wash off everything she had painted earlier. Sometimes she scrubbed the canvas until it lost its sheen and became worn and fragile – as fragile as the little girl in the picture.

The girl sat for Schjerfbeck on a dark November day. In Schjerfbeck's eyes, she was as radiant as a small yellow moon in the darkness. The girl was free to pose as she pleased, yet her hands look uncomfortable crossed as they are – only adding to the discomfort of her stiff Sunday frock.

Although the solitary figure was a delight to Schjerfbeck, painting her became an increasing strain. Schjerfbeck was unable to take pleasure in her work – the likeness was never good enough. How could anyone possibly bother looking at such an unworthy effort? "